


proud;

by bloodynargles



Series: distoria; [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, IM SORRRYYYYYYYY, im drunk lmao this was coming at some point, im sorry, its still valentines quick get ur sads in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodynargles/pseuds/bloodynargles
Summary: There'd been a few huffs from passing agents, and two sets of eyes watching him, also. One brown, their gaze felt like hard steel on the back of his head but there was a melting warmth in them, like he almost understood, in a way. Blue, concerned, questioning his intent and worrying about the oncoming storm should she not come home.





	proud;

**Author's Note:**

> im sad so everyone has to be sad - happi valentines u idiots im gonna go farm again

His feet are hanging over the edge of the roof, the mid-autumn breeze running ghostly fingers across his bare shoulders – god, he hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. He doesn't think of all that often, its not something that crosses his mind, not something he bothers his drunken mind with. Not something he wants to remember.

 

Overwatch hadn't been that bad, not at the start. Sure, no one trusted him, he's not even sure Reyes did, not at that point. But he gave him a choice. A choice that is embedded in his very being now, for better or worse. The last years were hell. He tells himself that maybe it was the restrictions, the rules and regulations, the UN or the Strike-Commander. Maybe it was his only family falling to pieces. There was a breaking point, a moment where he knew he couldn't take any more hits, where he knew that if he stayed longer he wouldn't get _out_. It wasn't an almost, not like the time before.

 

God, was this somethin' he was really gonna think about? Was she someth- No. He can't let that name grace his ears, he can't destroy her perfect memory with his drunken thought process. She's kept in a small little place, curled up in the remnants of the pieces of his heart she took with her when she left. When she..

Died.

 

A breath is pulled through his lungs and pushed out raggedly. He supposes he didn't have a choice. Typical.

 

He can still remember that day like it was yesterday, how could he not? It was the day that broke him, more than losing Reyes, more than anything that has happened since. She looked so.. ready. Happy, determined and professional. A jewel in Overwatch's crown, just waiting for her time to show her lustre. She'd been tying her hair back all day, trying to figure out what would be most efficient, what would get in her way less – he'd spent the whole day watching her from the other side of the room. There'd been a few huffs from passing agents, and two sets of eyes watching _him_ , also. One brown, their gaze felt like hard steel on the back of his head but there was a melting warmth in them, like he almost _understood_ , in a way. Blue, concerned, questioning his intent and worrying about the oncoming storm should she not come home. _He_ didn't handle it well either. At that point in his life he only cared about two things, her, and whether or not he could cheat his way out of training that afternoon. Simple life of a kid that didn't know what was gonna hit him, that didn't know what it felt like to lose half of yourself. To lose her.

 

She'd been a constant, always there with a hesitant but soft look in her eyes. He wonders now if she was meant to be the only good thing that the big guy in the sky gave to him, he wonders if he just let her slip through his fingers. He wonders if she was ever supposed to come back at all. Maybe there's some goddamn alternate reality where they get to see each other again – but really, what kinda man would he be without all this hurt? All this grief and regret and lingering urges to just see them _one last time_ that can never be fulfilled. There's a stinging in his eyes that he ignores but like everything else he does, it'll just come back to bite him in the ass again. Just like she is. Just like she _always_ will.

It burns now, the place where she kissed before she left. The only evidence of her existence that he has kept with him is a small spot on his cheek where fire sleeps. After her confirmed death, after her funeral he couldn't shake the feeling that one day she'd just walk through that door, any goddamn door – he couldn't think of anything but her eyes and how she never said a thing but she didn't _need_ to. He curses himself now, curses his kid self for not memorizing her face, for not thinkin' about the way her fingers felt when they ran through his hair – the things he _wants_ to remember, the things he thinks he _needs_ to remember. But all he can think about is those green eyes. Those green eyes and how _excited_ she was to finally be going on a mission. How he should have stopped her. Could have.

Can't.

 

The hours he spent in training, standing in the shooting range and thinkin' about what he was gonna say when she got home. He thinks those were the most productive of his life. Wanted to make her _proud_ , make her smile and her eyes shine, wanted things so simple. The way Morrison looked at him flickers through his mind like lightning flashes across a dark sky. That man couldn't have known, but God, god he was the most prepared of them all. Even if he wasn't, not at all. He knows they waited to tell him. He knew it then, could tell by the way Reyes sat him down. The way Gérard lingered at the door, hand gripped to the wall like it was holdin' him up. He's never wanted something to be a joke more. He's never considered- He forgot how to breathe. Forgot how the world worked, how to not choke on his words. He forgot to exist for a minute and sometimes, God, sometimes he wishes he'd just _stopped._ But that wouldn't make her proud, would it?

She would tell him that it would just break more hearts and he'd have to admit that she was right.

 

So maybe he keeps up that front that he's fine and dandy, that the world is not falling apart in his head at all times, that the people he thought were dead are alive but he doesn't want any of them back – he only wants _her._ But she's untouchable and unreachable and maybe that's better but goddamn does it kill him. Goddamn, does it _destroy_ him. And maybe there's a stranger in a bar with eyes like hers and he can't shake the feeling of being duped – but in the end of it all he can't pretend that one day he'll open his door and she'll be standin' there like nothing had ever happened at all. He can't pretend that one day some kind of fairytale shit will happen.

There was a _crater_ where she died. She ain't comin' back from that. No one is.

 

Valia just.. can't.

**Author's Note:**

> haHAAAAA end me pls


End file.
